Training Robin
by Smittenbymarvel
Summary: Dick Grayson finds himself kidnapped by Slade Wilson. Will Batman come to save him? Or is Bruce tired of giving Dick second chances? Will contain nonconsensual spanking of minor. Don't like, don't read.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: very AU, as are most of my stories. I've played around with the characters a bit but tried to keep them canon. **

**••••••••••••••••••••••••**

Thirteen-year-old Richard Grayson glared up at his captor, rage pulsing through his body. "You can't keep me here!" he shouted. "Batman will find me!"

"Mr. Wayne has better things to worry about than his little ward," scoffed Slade Wilson, crouching down before the boy. He was sure to be intimidating with his eyepatch, but the fact that he knew everything there was to know about the Wayne household made it even worse.

"I'm his son!" yelled Dick. He wasn't 'officially' Bruce's son, but basically he was...sort of. "Let me go, Slade! Let me go!"

"Why are you yelling that?" asked Slade, standing up. "I just kidnapped you. Screaming to be let go won't make me feel bad for you. You are here for a reason, Grayson. You are going to learn what it is to be an assistant to a master assassin. That being me."

Dick glared up, "Your assistant? I don't think so. You'd have to kill me and rip my heart out before I even gave it a thought."

"That could be arranged," smirked Slade, leaning against the stone wall of the basement. "Look, boy, give it up. I already know your identity, as well as Batman's, and I also know of your skill. For thirteen-years-old you are awfully small but you're strong and quick. I can use those abilities to assist me in my work."

"I won't help you. Even if you threaten my life," growled Dick, twisting his wrists against the ropes binding them behind his back.

"Hm, we'll see," said Slade, turning and starting up the basement stairs. "I'll be back. Eventually."

Dick sighed and put his head back. What had he gotten himself into this time? If only he hadn't tried to run away. That seemed to be a disease with him. He ran away at least once every two months. And every time Bruce would find him, spank him, and then everything went back to what was normal for the Wayne household.

Bruce, as the richest man in Gotham, had taken Dick in six years before and raised him as his own son, though never officially adopting him. Their butler, Alfred, who had raised Bruce, was a very kind but stern old man that didn't hesitate to correct Dick when needed. They all loved each other very much, but Bruce and Dick often found themselves in arguments which generally ended with Dick standing in the corner.

This time, though, after a particularly heated yelling match, Dick had run away and made it out of the woods behind Wayne Manor only to be grabbed by Slade, also known as Deathstroke the Terminator.

Bruce's alter persona, the Dark Knight of Gotham 'Batman', had been training Dick to be his assistant. Slade was a genius, though, and rich beyond compare and he had decided to capture the boy after learning of his frequent escapes.

Dick shook his head when he felt tears beginning to build up. He couldn't cry now! Slade hadn't even done anything to him yet! He was a teenager, for goodness sake! Oh how he missed Bruce. Why had he been so stupid?

••••••••••••••

Slade looked up at the computer screen in front of him that held data and information on the boy wonder now sitting in his basement.

_Richard Matthew Grayson. Thirteen-years-old. Alias 'Robin'. Strong points: fighting (knowledge in judo, jiu-jitsu, karate, tai kwon do); gymnastics; Partner of Batman 'aka Bruce Wayne'. Speaks fluent English, German, and Russian. Born Dallas, Texas; family killed in fire; current residence: Wayne Manor, Gotham City. School: Gotham Middle School - seventh grade; grade average - poor._

Slade leaned back and folded his hands, tapping his fingers together. The boy was skilled when it came to fighting crime, but seemed slow when applying his mind to academics. He was bilingual, though, which was quite a feat in itself. The kid was small for his age, but he was fast and graceful. Slade also knew that Dick was a bit of a comeback king and had spent plenty of time over Bruce Wayne's knee for his smart aleck remarks.

"Just who are you, Mr. Grayson?" Said Slade to himself. "I can't imagine someone with your skills is as dumb as you bring yourself across. Especially being bilingual. You can disable a bomb in eight seconds but you can't get a C average in Science."

"Quit mumbling to yourself and tell me what you plan to do with the boy."

Slade smiled and spun his chair to face the voice behind him. "Ah, Wintergreen," he greeted, nodding his head. "I thought you had disappeared." The elderly man sat across from Slade and folded his arms.

"What do you plan to do with the boy?" He repeated.

"I already told you," replied Slade. "Make him my partner. Train him in all that I know. Fight good with evil."

"And you truly think he will work with you?" scoffed the man.

"He will when I show him who is boss," nodded Slade, standing up. Wintergreen, a man of about sixty with white hair, also stood at looked Slade in the eye.

"Slade, you will not beat that child and give me blood to clean up," he said. "The boy is thirteen and you will treat him as such."

"I will do what is necessary," snapped Slade. "It is up to him, really. If he chooses to disobey me he will feel my wrath. If not, we shall get along fine."

••••••••••••••••

Slade descended the stairs and looked at the small boy sitting on the ground. Dick was really a rare gem. Not only was he incredibly talented, but he was good looking as well. His dark, curly hair was cut short showing off his brilliant green eyes, currently hidden by the fact that his knees were pulled up to his chest with his face buried in his hands.

"Richard," said Slade, his voice stern and commanding, "come here, boy." Dick jumped when he heard Slade's voice and scrambled to his feet. Slade stepped from the bottom stair and cocked an eyebrow, remembering he had left Dick tied up.

"I..." stuttered Dick, stepping backward.

"How did you get untied?" cut in Slade, eyeing the rope now lying on the ground. It had not been cut, nor frayed.

"I...I just got out of it," shrugged Dick, still backing up. He stopped when he hit the wall. "I...I don't know."

"Come over here," said Slade. He sensed the boy's hesitation and sighed, "I'm not going to hurt you."

The boy made a face, "Yeah, right. Deathstroke the Terminator isn't going to hurt me."

"Come here now, Grayson," growled Slade, sternly. Dick flinched a little at Slade's change in tone, but shook his head.

"No," he said. "I don't obey evil. Not even psychopath idiots like you."

Slade growled and strode forward, grabbing Dick by the collar. "No!" cried the boy, but Slade ignored him and hit Dick hard across the face. Dick would have fallen had Slade not been holding him. The boy looked up, blood dripping from his lip, and squinted at his captor in the dim light. "That all you got, Slade?"

••••••••••••••

Please review and let me know how I can improve. I'm writing this on my iPod which leaves much to be desired so I'm sorry for spelling/grammar errors!


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning: beating of a minor**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, obviously**

•••••••••••••••••

Wintergreen heard the bumps and occassional muffled yells from the basement and sighed. Slade was mopping with blood again. As quickly as he could, the elderly man made his way to the basement door and down the steps. He was just in time to see Slade smash Dick's head against the wall and let him drop to the floor, unconcious.

"Slade!" he yelled. "What did I tell you about doing that? Look at this place! Blood everywhere. I thought you wanted to make him your assistant not beat the living tar out of him!"

"He was being disrespectful," snapped Slade, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs with much needed oxygen.

"Mm, I bet," said Wintergreen, moving to the boy's side and kneeling down. "He's alive, no thanks to you."

"I had no intention of killing him," scoffed Slade. "Besides, we can give him some of the serum and he'll be healed within the hour." Wintergreen rolled his eyes and picked up the battered, unconcious boy, carrying him towards the stairs.

"You are hopeless, you know that," he said, passing Slade.

Once upstairs, Wintergreen carried Dick down a hall and to a large room right beside the kitchen. He stepped inside to a bedroom that had been quickly makeshifted to house a teenage boy. The man set Dick down on the couch across the large room.

"Bloody, bloody mess," he mumbled. "Can't do anything without blood." He hurried into the adjoining bathroom and returned with a bowl of warm water and a cloth. He'd decided beforehand to have them ready in case Slade got violent.

"Alright, son," muttered Wintergreen, dabbing at the cut above the boy's left eye, "it'll be alright." The door opened and Slade appeared holding a small glass bottle and needle.

"I'll inject this and he'll be fine soon," the man mumbled, dropping to his knees beside the boy. He readied the needle and pushed Dick's sleeve above the boy's bicep. A bit too harshly for Wintergreen's taste, Slade jabbed the needle into Dick's muscle and injected the healing serum he had worked for years to improve. Wintergreen shook his head and continued cleaning the blood off of the boy's face.

•••••••

Dick groggily sat up and looked around. He was in a bedroom and lying on a couch against a wall. The room looked like it had been prepared for a teenager and he concluded it was meant for him.

Dick stood and went to the door but found it to be locked. Before he could begin thinking about any chance of escape, Dick remembered the beating Slade had delivered and quickly checked his body over for scratches, cuts, or bruises. He was thoroughly surprised to find nothing, nor was he in pain. Puzzled, and hindered from leaving by the locked door, Dick decided to explore the room.

The closet was empty but the dresser held a few changes of clothes in Dick's size. A table beside the twin bed had an alarm clock and his baseball cap on it. He faintly recalled it falling off when Slade had knocked him out in the woods.

Wandering into the bathroom, Dick found general necessities including toothpaste, toothbrush, soap, shower supplies, and towels. Returning to the bedroom, Dick dropped into the chair by the bathroom door.

"Bruce," he whispered, thinking of his guardian. "I love you, Bruce. I'm sorry I was such a jerk. Gosh, I'd give anything to be with you now...even if you punished me for running."

Dick blinked back threatening tears and stood up. He had to escape. The room had no windows and the door was locked, but he'd picked locks before. Yanking open the bedside table drawer, Dick rummaged through paper, pencils, and sticky notes but found nothing.

"Hopeless, Grayson," mumbled Dick. "You can't do anything without Batman. Utterly hopeless." He sighed and dropped onto the bed. How did he get himself into these messes?

•••••••••••••••••••

Slade opened the bedroom door and stepped in. Dick jumped to his feet, his heart thudding in his chest.

"Relax, Dick," said Slade, "I'm not going to hurt you. Sit down." Dick slowly sat on the bed but never took his eyes off Slade. The man sighed and crossed the room, standing before the boy. "Dick, look, you're a talented kid and I want to train you to be my assistant. I understand your feelings on that now, but I believe they'll change as we train. But there will be rules. If you disobey me I'll give you another dose of what happened downstairs. Get it?"

"How am I better?" asked Dick.

"What?" said Slade. "Oh, I gave you some of my healing serum. But be warned, you aren't getting anymore. Next time I beat you you're on your own for getting better."

"Why are you doing this?" mumbled Dick.

"I already told you that," replied Slade.

"No, why are you torturing me?" growled Dick. "Why don't you kill Bruce? Why don't you do something awful? Why are you making us both suffer?"

"Suffer?" scoffed Slade. "You mean you actually want to be with that playboy? Doesn't he bring home a different woman every night? I can't imagine you actually spend time with him other than across his lap."

Dick jumped up and glared at Slade, "That's not true! Bruce is my father and we do everything together! I love him and he loves me! And I don't get spanked! Well...not much."

Slade laughed, "Yes, practically everyday isn't that much at all."

"Shut up," mumbled Dick. Slade hit the boy across the face, causing Dick to drop to the floor. The boy scrambled to his feet and spun to face Slade, his eyes full of fear.

"I warned you," shrugged Slade. "Anyway, it does the Batman some good to search for you. It'll keep him busy for awhile. And if he doesn't find you he can always find comfort in one of his prostitutes."

Dick's eyes were fiery and he opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and turned away, holding his breath. He wanted to stomp his foot and yell but couldn't imagine how childish that would look. Bruce had been a playboy, before Dick came along. Then that all changed and he devoted himself to his new son. Dick's heart suddenly caught and he wrinkled his brow. That didn't make sense. How could Bruce completely drop the life he loved and start raising a kid? Slade did know a lot. Had Bruce been seeing women that Dick didn't know about? Dick shuttered and shook it off. Of course not. He wasn't about to start doubting Bruce now.

"We'll begin your training tomorrow morning at eight," said Slade. "Breakfast is at seven. If you're late you get nothing. Training is not an option. I'll see you in the morning."

•••••••••••••••••

Dick scuffed into the kitchen, looking down at his sneakers, and only looked up when he heard an unfamiliar voice.

"Good morning, young man."

Dick locked eyes with an older, smiling man who was setting plates on the table.

"I'm Will Wintergreen," smiled the man. "I'm Slade's...well, Slade's friend, I suppose. Sit down, son."

Dick stood still staring at the man.

"Alright," shrugged Wintergreen. "Be my guest. Stand."

"Why does he want me?" asked Dick.

Wintergreen smiled at him, "I don't think you should be here, and I told Slade he shouldn't have kidnapped you. He wants you because you're pretty much the only boy wonder that gets publicity making you the only one we know anything about."

"Are you just as stupid and psychotic as Slade?" growled Dick, angry over the whole predicament.

"Young man," said Wintergreen, "I don't approve of what he is doing, but I am his friend. That being said, you have no reason to be disrespectful. If you treat me with respect, I'll treat you the same. And if you don't, I will punish you."

"What? Beat me like Deathstroke?" mumbled Dick.

"No," said Wintergreen, his expression softening. "I won't beat you."

"Good," said Dick, "then I still think you're a psychotic idiot."

In a flash, Wintergreen was beside the boy and had pinched Dick's left ear between his fingers. In one quick movement, he jerked down so Dick was seated in the chair below him.

Wintergreen stepped away and crossed his arms, looking down at a rather confused Dick.

"I don't give two chances. Next time you'll be doing dishes for me with that disrespect. Now, do you have an apology to make?"'

"I...um..." Dick stuttered, "I'm...sorry?"

"Apology accepted," nodded Wintergreen. "Now be good."

The old man hid a smile when he saw Dick's puzzled expression and red face. The boy was silent until Slade came in and began asking him questions, and then Dick was very reserved, answering only 'yes, sir' or 'no, sir' when possible. Slade seemed slightly confused by Dick's manner, but shook it off and said nothing of the matter.

Dick eyed Wintergreen through the entire meal, puzzled by his feelings. All the old man had done was pinch his ear and threaten him with dishes. Why was it having this affect on him? He was grateful to the man for not beating him, but at least with Slade he had expected that. The threat of chores he had not seen coming.

But Dick did not have long to mull it over before Slade stood and ordered the boy to follow him. It was time for their first training session.

Thanks for your reviews! They are appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: thanks for the reviews! They are much appreciated!**

••••••••••••••••••••

"Slade!" yelled Wintergreen, grabbing the man's arm. "Stop it, now. I just got all the blood off the basement walls and now you mess up your training room? Honestly."

Dick lay face down on the floor, blood spattering the ground around him. He was wearing gray clothes and the blood showed easily on the material as his torso rose and fell with labored breaths.

Slade growled and yanked away from Wintergreen. He spun around and stalked off, leaving his friend alone with the boy. Wintergreen knelt down and rolled Dick onto his back. The boy was conscious, but just barely. Blood trickled from his mouth and Wintergreen could tell his lip was bleeding, but a lot of it was blood Dick had coughed up. The cut above his eye had reopened and Wintergreen could tell from pressing on his chest he was badly bruised.

"Come on, Dick," he said, picking the boy up. "Let's get you cleaned up, eh?"

••••••••••••••

Dick slowly opened his eyes, looking around him. He was lying on the big bed but when he tried to move, found he couldn't. He vaguely remembered being carried in by Wintergreen, the man he'd met at breakfast, but his memory failed him after that. Dick winced as he lifted his hand and touched the bandage above his eye. His lip stung and he found a cut when he ran his tongue over it. His torso felt horrendous. He figured after the beating Slade had given him he was bruised everywhere there was skin from the waist up.

The boy moaned and turned his head. He saw Wintergreen across the room, just coming out of the bathroom with a wet cloth. He smiled at the boy and hurried over, lying the cloth on Dick's forehead.

"How are you doing, son?" he asked. "You have a slight fever, but nothing serious."

"Sore," mumbled Dick.

"I wouldn't wonder," chuckled Wintergreen. "Nothing broken, though. Just bruises, bruises, and more bruises. You'll be okay after a couple of days. You still have some of the effects of the serum in you and it won't take as long as usual for you to heal up."

"I didn't even do anything wrong," mumbled Dick. "I just couldn't figure out how to block his attacks, and he got mad and started beating me."

"That would be Slade," nodded Wintergreen. "Doesn't care that I hate cleaning blood up. Honest, kid, I've tried reasoning with him. He won't listen to anybody, though. Here, let me check your chest again." He lifted the boy's shirt up and examined a particularly large bruise above the left rib cage and shrugged. "Looking better, actually," he said. "You'll be okay, kid. I'll be back later to check on you. Get some rest."

Dick was welcome to that idea and was sleeping by the time Wintergreen reached the door.

••••••••••••••••

"That child can barely move," growled Wintergreen. "What is wrong with you? You want an assistant that has to use crutches?"

"He's fine," said Slade, barely looking up from the keyboard he was hunched over at his computer.

"He is out cold in his bedroom," said Wintergreen, "bruised everywhere there is skin! Why are you beating him like that?"

"The boy disobeys me and he must learn I will not tolerate that," replied Slade.

"Richard Grayson is thirteen," said Wintergreen, putting his hand on Slade's shoulder. "There are other ways. Better ways. Smarter ways."

Slade stopped typing and looked up at his friend, "Such as?"

Wintergreen shrugged, "Ever hear of spanking?"

Slade rolled his eyes and stood up. "I'm not spanking the kid," he said. "That won't prove a thing. He won't respect me anymore then he does now."

"That's not true," said Wintergreen, sitting on the desk behind him. "Experience proves."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Slade, running a hand through his white hair.

"Doesn't Wayne spank him?" asked the older man.

Slade scoffed, "Sure, but did that ever stop Mr. Grayson from running away?"

"No," said Wintergreen, "but you'll also agree that after Wayne would spank him Dick would do what the man said for awhile." Slade glanced at the computer, remembering the surveillance videos they had taken with droid cameras inside the Wayne home. Wintergreen had a point.

"Yes," said Slade, "but that is ridiculous. Can you imagine the military disciplining their soldiers by spanking them instead of court marshal or KP or whatever they do? This boy will learn to fear and respect me. Not cry when I treat him like a baby."

Wintergreen raised an eyebrow, "I'm telling you Slade, it'll work. Here's what I suggest. Go to the boy's room when he wakes up, apologize for beating him, promise him you never will again, and then tell him in detail what will happen if he disobeys."

"Well, isn't that a kind, sweet idea," smiled Slade. "I'll remember that next time I kidnap a three-year-old. It isn't happening."

"Okay," shrugged Wintergreen. "But you have to admit it works for Wayne." He began walking away, but when he reached the door Slade's voice stopped him.

"What would I do if I got angry with him?"

"Count to ten and calm down," replied Wintergreen, not even turning around. "If you promise not to beat him it is absolutely crucial that you keep that promise, or he will never trust you. And trust is a big deal if you are training him to be your assistant. The same goes for spanking him, though. If you tell him that when he disobeys you'll spank him, you have to follow through."

"How would I spank him?" asked Slade.

"For little things like a dirty look or not coming immediately when called, just give him two or three hard swats," said Wintergreen, folding his arms and leaning back against the door. "For bigger things, the full deal. Over your lap, hard spanking."

"With my hand?" asked Slade.

Wintergreen nodded, "Yes. And if you feel it is necessary use something else like a wooden spoon or brush. Only use your belt if he continues to defy you after the spanking."

"How do I...well, I don't know," shrugged Slade.

Wintergreen nodded, "Details, details. To start with, tell him he's going to get a spanking and send him to his room. Give him a few minutes to worry about it and you a few minutes to calm down. Then, go in, sit down, tell him to come over and calmly explain why he's getting spanked. Make him talk while you spank you. Ask him why its happening and what he'll do to change."

"How do I know I've done enough?" asked Slade, starting to think this may be an option.

"If he's a fighter, you'll know its good when he stops kicking and thrashing around and just lies there crying," said Wintergreen. "If he's not like that then...well, I suggest doing it pants down. When he's good and red you'll know its enough."

Slade sighed and folded his arms, pacing back and forth. He looked up at Wintergreen and shook his head, "I'm not a father. I don't want to treat the kid like my son. He is my prisoner and trainee. He should be doing as I say without me having to force him. This is crazy." They were both silent for a minute, but Wintergreen smiled as he watched the obvious signs of gears spinning in Slade's head. Then a sigh from the latter and a shrug, "Alright, alright, wouldn't hurt to try."

Wintergreen grinned, "Fine. When he wakes up go and tell him exactly what you plan on doing. Don't back down. Children need consistency. That's why Dick is so close to Wayne. When the boy was disobedient, Wayne would spank him. The guidance made Sam feel secure, and he loves Wayne deeply."

Slade rolled his eyes, "Yes, exactly what I want. A thirteen-year-old boy loving me like a son loves his father. This is ridiculous but from lack of Dick's obedience through beatings I guess I'll try it."

•••••••••••••••••••••

A quick AN: I am terrible at using 'then' and 'than' correctly so I'm sorry if that is driving anyone crazy! Thanks for reading! Bruce will make an appearance soon, I promise


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: thanks for the response to this story! I am trying to update whenever possible but I'm juggling work and school and extra curricular so my free time is limited!**

**Also, just tonight I stumbled across a fanfic extremely similar to this one so I just wanted to shoutout to that author and apologize! I didn't mean to copy your storyline! I wrote this whole story before I even read yours so I am sorry! (Plus their story is way better than this one)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or anything DC related**

**••••••••••••••**

Dick was sitting up in bed, leaning against the backboard when the door opened. He shifted back slightly when he saw Slade.

"Relax," smiled the man. "I'm not going to hurt." Slade came over and sat on the edge of the bed. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Like you care," mumbled Dick, looking down at his lap.

Slade sighed, "Look, Dick, I messed up. Wintergreen helped me figure that out. I've been doing this the wrong way."

"You can say that again," mumbled Dick, shooting the man a glare.

Slade took a deep breath and held back the slap he so desperately wanted to deliver the boy. "From now on I will not be beating you," he said.

Dick actually laughed. "Thank you, Slade. Now back to reality of me not believing that for a minute," he said.

"Well, you can believe whatever you want," shrugged Slade. "But I will not be beating you anymore. From now on, when you are disobedient, defiant, disrespectful, whatevr...I will be putting you across my knee and spanking you."

Dick looked over at the wall, then jerked his head back, his mouth dropping open, "Come again?"

"I'll be spanking you," repeated Slade. "It seemed to work well for Wayne so I will be spanking you from nowon. Unless, of course, you'd rather be beaten."

"No!" cried Dick, shaking his head, "I mean...you're going to spank me? No, I won't let you."

"You don't have much choice in the matter," shrugged Slade.

"Well, I figured that," huffed Dick, "but I can still voice my opinion, as well as my advice. And my advice is this: drop dead, you psychotic jerk."'

Slade looked calmly at the boy and decided this was probably the time to prove his decision. He grabbed Dick by the arms and yanked him across his lap.

"No!" shrieked Dick. "You can't actually mean you're going to do it! No, not fair!"

Slade ignored him and landed three sharp swats then let the boy free. Dick jumped backwards, his hands on his bottom, face red and staring at Slade. The man smiled and nodded to Dick, "My point proven. That was just an easy one. When you are extremely naughty, you'll get the full deal. One of the good ones Wayne used to give you."

Dick was still looking at Slade in shocked, almost humiliated silence at having been spanked by his captor, but he shook it off and glared at the man. "What are you, a stalker? How on earth do you know what Bruce used to do to me?"

"Sure," said Slade, shrugging. "Call it what you like. Anyways, you can expect a couple of hard swats whenever I feel they are needed and a full spankingwhen the time comes and you are completely disrespectful or whatever the case may be. I'll see you at supper, Dick." And with that, Slade stood and left Dick totally confused and embarrassed over the whole situation.

Dick dropped onto the bed, his mouth open, trying to figure out what was happening. Slade wasn't going to beat him anymore? Yeah, right. That would be the day! But...he did just spank him. Slade should have beat the heck out of him for calling him names; but instead the man had calmly pulled Dick over his lap and swatted him. It was almost as if he was acting like a father and Dick was his naughty little boy. No! That was Bruce's job and Bruce's job alone. No one else deserved that right. Bruce had brought Dick in when no one else cared, and Dick loved him more than anything. Slade could not take that right!

••••••••••••••••••••••••

"I hate to admit this, Will," sighed Slade, sitting down at the table and running a hand over his goatee, "but you were right. It worked."

"You spanked him?" said Wintergreen, sitting down with a knife in his hand he'd been using to cut meat for supper.

"Mmhmm," nodded Slade. "He called me a psychotic jerk when I told him our new arrangement and I gave him three good swats."

"He likes the word psychotic. I hope you aren't considering that a full spanking," said Wintergreen, raising his eyebrow.

"No, of course not," said Slade, shaking his head. "Those will come when he deserves them. He's just confused now. But he was obviously embarrassed when I spanked him, which is good. A good effect. I'll hand it to you, Will. That was a great idea."

Will smiled and stood back up, "I'll have you know there are a lot more where that came from."

Slade chuckled, "I'm sure there are, old man."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Dick stepped into the kitchen and Slade and Wintergreen both looked up at him. There was an awkward silence for a minute, then Dick sighed, "Look, I'm sorry I called you a psychotic jerk."

"Thank you, Dick," nodded Slade, trying to hide his shock over the boy's apology. "Now sit down. You need nutrition or you'll never make it through our training."

"I'm sorry I called you a psychotic jerk only because you were close enough to grab me," cut in Dick. "I won't be doing any training with you, much less eating with you. And I've changed my mind; you are a psychotic idiot that deserves nothing better than eternal damnation."

Slade stood up from the table, his eyes full of fire. Wintergreen glanced at him and stepped over, putting a hand on the man's chest, "Slade, remember what I told you. Remeber what I told you!"

Dick, obviously seeing the rage in his captor's face, took a step backwards and visibly inhaled shakily, "I...I won't do anything for you, Slade. I can't work for evil. I can't."

Slade let out a growl and with one hand, flipped the small kitchen table over. Dick jumped backwards, clearly scared. Before Slade could move, the boy spun around and ran down the hall.

"Slade, no!" said Wintergreen, trying to hold the man back, but Slade shoved him aside and took off after the child.

Dick spun around a corner and found himself in a sort of conference room. In the three days he'd been with Slade, he'd never had a chance to loo around and now he realized the house was a lot bigger then he'd thought. There were no windows anywhere, so he had no clue if they were underground or in a skyscraper.

Dick heard Slade right behind him, and he made a quick right only to find himself in a dead end. Spinning back around, he saw Slade skid to a stop blocking the only way out.

"Big mistake, kid," said Slade, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. "Very big mistke."

Dick backed up as far as he could, hitting the wall, and looked up at Slade. "What are you going to do, Slade?" he taunted, building all his fake courage, "beat me up again? Yeah, I figured. I knew you're stupid idea wouldn't last long. Like you were going to give up smashing the heck out of me for spankings. Very funny, Slade. Very funny."

Slade stopped advancing towards the boy and took one final deep breath. He crossed his arms and glared down at the form below him. Dick was shaking with fear, but trying his best to look unafraid. Slade smirked and shook his head, "You're wrong, Dick. I'm not going to beat you. I promised that I wouldn't and I won't. I told you what would happen when you were disrespectful, disobedient, and defiant and you've been all three so if you'll just come with me we'll get this over with."

Dick couldn't get a word out before Slade grabbed his ear and began pulling him back the way they'd come. Dick yelped and tried to wiggle free, but Slade's fingers merely pinched harder and tugged him along.

"Ow, Slade!" cried the boy, "please, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! Honest!"

"You're only saying that to avoid punishment," said Slade, calmly. He pulled Dick into the boy's bedroom and over to the deskchair. Sitting down, Slade carefully guided the boy over his lap and proceeded to lower his shorts.

"No!" shrieked Dick, his hand flying back. Slade quickly pinned it down to the boy's lower back, and tugged Dick's shorts and boxers down to his knees. "Hey, Slade!" yelped Dick, wiggling in a useless attempt to free himself.

"Settle down, boy," said Slade, sternly. "You've brought this upon yourself. This way, I can make sure I'm not hurting you too badly. Now, if you don't hold still and keep your hands back I will make my swats harder so I suggest you stop fighting me." As he spoke, Slade released Dick's hands, trapped the boy's legs between his own, and tugged him a bit closer with his left arm.

"You sick, stupid jerk," growled Dick. Slade responded by bringing his hand down sharply on the boy's small bottom. Dick yelled and his hands flew to the chair legs, gripping them tightly. Slade watched a red mark in the shape of a faint handprint appear on the boy's bottom.

Starting at the lower part of the boy's behindand working his way up, Slade covered every inch with sharp slaps. Dick was yelling and pleading, trying to keep back the threatening tears. If Bruce had been spanking him, he would have been sobbing at the first smack because whenever Bruce spanked him it was because Dick had done something wrong. He hated hurting Bruce and always felt really bad about it, but now that Slade was spanking him just because he could, there was no way he was going to cry like a baby.

"I do not appreciate your disrespect, young man," said Slade sternly, speaking for the first time in several minutes. He continued raining the sharp slaps down and Dick squeezed the chair legs so tightly he was sure they were going to break. "Be warned that if it happens again you will get the exact same treatment," said Slade. He stopped talking and dipped his left leg, raising his right. Dick knew that position and began pleading again, but Slade ignored him and began swatting the upper parts of his thighs.

"Ow, Slade, please!" begged the boy, struggling fruitlessly to keep the tears back. Slade landed a particularly hard swat and Dick let out a sob. He dropped his shield and began crying uncontrollably, the tears streaming down his cheeks and dripping onto the carpet.

Finally, Slade stopped and freed the boy's legs, but Dick made no attempt to move. He lay limp over the man's lap, crying. His bottom felt as if it were on fire and was a deep red.

"Enough of this, young man," sighed Slade, working the boy's boxers up. Dick yelped when they touched his tender skin, but allowed himself to be stood up. Slade held him by the shoulders and looked into the glistening green eyes. "Now, then, I suppose that got the message through and if it didn't then I'll have to resort to a hairbrush," he said.

The boy's lower lip was slightly out, and the tears still ran down his cheeks though the sobs had stopped. He suddenly felt all about six-years-old.

"Apologize for your disrespect, Dick," ordered Slade, crossing his arms.

Dick took a shaky breath and considered his options. He could be a baby and apologize, or be a man and refuse and probably get spanked again. The first option was definitely the better.

"I'm sorry I was disrespectful," he mumbled, rubbing his sore seat.

"Very good," nodded Slade. "Now, you will come down to the kitchen and eat your supper or take another trip over my knee. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," grunted Dick, brushing the stray tears from his blushed cheeks.

"Good, boy," smiled Slade. He left Dick to fix his shorts and fume for a few minutes before reluctantly joining the two men at the supper table.

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Endless thanks for your reviews...they are so appreciated. Also, apologies for spelling or punctual mistakes. My laptop has no internet so I'm retyping the story to my iPod and the mistakes are many! Bless you for putting up with them because I can't imagine how annoying they make the story! Thanks again and please review.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: You guys are amazing. Thanks for reading and reviewing. I'll try to update more regularly! **

**Disclaimer: don't own Batman. Nope, nope, nope**

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The next morning, Dick went down to the training room where Slade was sitting by his computer. "Ah, good morning, Richard," he smiled. Dick stiffened. Richard was generally saved in the Wayne household for special moments. Generally right after Dick had finished crying and Bruce was assuring him things were alright. Or when he was in massive trouble.

"Good morning, sir," Dick mumbled.

"I want to do some sparring today," announced Slade, standing up. "Come over here onto the mat." Dick and Slade stepped onto a large mat and Dick stood, looking icily at Slade. "I'll go easy on you today, Dick, but I expect you to try your best. You'll probably end up with some bruises if you don't, understand?"

"Yes, sir," shrugged Dick.

Slade came in suddenly and caught Dick off guard, knocking him to the ground with a firm shove to the chest. Dick jumped to his feet and for the next few minutes, surprised Slade with some excellent defense techniques. After awhile, Dick grinned and ducked as Slade swung in. "That all you got?" he taunted. Slade came up, catching the boy in the side. Dick managed to sidestep enough that it didn't hurt too badly, but it knocked him down. He rolled and stood, glaring at Slade.

"Hey," shrugged Slade, "I told you to be careful."

"I was," Dick grunted. Slade sighed.

"Hey, Dick," he said, "if you ever want to be at the top of your game you're going to have to really step it up. I'm going to push you a little harder because at this point, you're pretty darn pathetic."

"I am not!" cried Dick. "Bruce has taught me everything he knows!"

"That's why Batman has never beat me," grinned Slade. "He doesn't know too much."

"Yes, he does!" shouted Dick.

"I could beat him with my eyes closed," taunted Slade.

"No!" yelled Dick, coming at Slade. Slade chuckled to himself as he continued sparring the boy. Working Dick up obviously was what was needed to get him to fight his hardest.

After an intense hour more of sparring, Dick was bruised and tired. He dropped to the mat, breathing hard and Slade sat beside him.

"Hey, kid, you okay?"

Dick nodded into the mat and sighed. "I hurt," he said, voice muffled.

Slade laughed, "Of course, I just owned you. Come on, Dick, you'll be fine. Why don't you go get some rest?" Dick moaned and moved slightly. Slade grinned, "Okay, okay, I'll carry you."

"No!" whimpered Dick, but Slade picked him up bridal style and carried him down to his bedroom. Walking over to the bed, Slade started to set Dick down when he realized the boy was breathing heavily, yet evenly. He looked down and grinned widely when he realized Dick was sleeping in his arms.

"Well, then, kid," he said softly, "looks like you were tired." He gently set Dick on the bed and pulled the boy's sneakers off, then left the room, flicking the light switch off.

••••••••••••••••••••••

Around three o'clock, Dick came stumbling into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and whimpering. Wintergreen stood up and grabbed his shoulder, "Hey, there, little man, you alright?"

"Bruce," whispered Dick, "Bruce!"

"Okay, okay," sighed Wintergreen. He turned the groggy, confused boy around and led Dick back to the bedroom. He met Slade in the hall.

"What's going on?" asked Slade, seeing Dick crying.

"Kid came wandering into the kitchen crying for Wayne," replied Wintergreen. "I think he's still half-asleep. I'll put him back to bed and make sure he doesn't have a fever or anything."

"Alright," nodded Slade. Wintergreen steered the boy into his room, Slade right behind them, and helped Dick into bed.

"There's a thermometer in the bathroom," Wintergreen said, unzipping the boy's hoodie slightly and feeling his chest. "Yep, he's a bit warm," he said. Slade returned with the electronic thermometer and Wintergreen pressed it against the boy's temple. It beeped a second later and he checked the reading, nodding, "101.5, Slade. We gotta get him cooled down."

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"Alfred, I can't lose him!" shouted Bruce, slamming his fist into the wall.

"Master Bruce, I insist you settle down this instant!" The elderly butler grabbed his employer by the arm and spun him around. "Losing control will not find Master Richard!"

"Alfred," whispered Bruce, grief flooding his face. He burst into tears. Alfred pulled him close, holding him tightly.

"Master Bruce," he said, "that boy loves you very much and you love him, as do I. We will find him and I'm sure he is trying to get back to us. It will all work out, I promise you."

"Like it did with my parents?" cried Bruce.

"Bruce!" shouted Alfred, holding the younger man tightly. The two looked into each other's eyes and were silent. Alfred sighed, "Master Bruce, young Richard will be alright. You need to control your emotions and let Batman do the rest."

Bruce closed his eyes and sighed, "You're right. I'm going down to the Batcave. I'm going to do some research and figure out what's going on."

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"Sir..." Dick mumbled.

"Its alright, kid," smiled Wintergreen, pressing a cold cloth against the boy's head. "Your fever is down to 99.3 so you're almost back to normal. You just need rest."

"Rest..." whispered Dick, before his eyes fluttered shut again. He vaguely remember a man...tall...saying something...Bruce. It was Bruce. And he was calling Dick home. Then blackness.

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Well there's Bruce! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, though it was rather short. I wanted to give you guys a chapter before next week comes and work overwhelms me again. Maybe, if we're lucky, I'll have another up tomorrow night! Keep your fingers crossed! And thanks for reading! Please review


	6. Chapter 6

**Oh my gosh, guys! It has been forever! Work and school and my mom's pregnancy has been overwhelming. But I got some amazingly kind reviews so I just had to get another chapter up. Thank you "Scarecrow" for your reviews! They absolutely made my day.**

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"Is he doing any better?" asked Slade, looking up as Wintergreen came into the kitchen.

"Yes," nodded Wintergreen. "Fever is almost gone. He's just exhausted. I would let him sleep until tomorrow and go from there."

"And loose a day of training?" snapped Slade.

"Slade," said Wintergreen, harshly, "you can't train an unconcious person. I think he probably dreamt about Wayne and freaked out. Panic attack. We underestimated the bond between Wayne and the kid."

Slade sighed, "You're right. I didn't think he'd be so attached to the bat. Wayne is a playboy and coldhearted billionaire. How on earth does Dick feel so strongly towards him?"

"Maybe that's what Wayne wants the world to think," said Wintergreen, sitting down. "A playboy billionaire wouldn't have anything to do with the Dark Knight. Its the perfect cover."

Slade shrugged and nodded, "True. But what about the kid? If he keeps freaking out I'll never be able to train him. I was better off beating him good."

"We agreed no more of that," warned Wintergreen. "Dick will get over it. After a week or so he'll start adapting to the situation and we'll be fine."

Slade ran his finger around his coffee cup and sighed, "I hope you're right."

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"Are we going to train today?" Dick looked up from his cup of water and across the table at Slade, who was busily reading the paper.

"A little," nodded Slade, "but not physically. I'm going to show you how to hack onto a computer."

"Hurray," mumbled Dick, sarcastically. Slade ignored him and turned the page. Dick sighed and took a sip, then set his cup down. "Slade, how long are you keeping me here?" he asked.

"Forever," replied Slade, calmly. "You're going to be my assistant."

Dick's stomach dropped and he felt his anger beginning to bubble, "No. I need Bruce. I will not stay here forever."

"Mm, whatever, kid," said Slade, still absorbed in his paper. Dick fought back the rage boiling inside of him. He had always had anger problems, but he knew if he exploded now it would result in another trip over Slade's knee. But if he was going to be stuck here forever, he would never see Bruce again. The mere thought made him sick and Dick gripped his glass so hard it shattered into tiny pieces. Slade jumped up at the sound and stared at the boy. "How did you..." he looked surprised that Dick had the strength to break a cup like that. "You're getting blood everywhere," he said.

Dick looked down and realized his hand was bleeding. Slade came around the table and grabbed him by the back of the shirt. He led him to the sink and turned it on. "Run your hand under that while I get the glass cleaned up," he ordered. "And don't think you aren't getting spanked for that cause you sure are." Dick stomped his foot and Slade spun around, landing three solid swats to the boy's backside.

"Ow!" cried Dick, his free hand going to his bottom.

"Watch it," said Slade sternly. Wintergreen arrived on the scene and Slade explained what had happened as he cleaned up the glass. Wintergreen took a first aid kit from the cupboard and turned the water off, looking at Dick's hand.

Ten minutes later, all the glass was gone and Dick's hand was cleaned and bandaged.

"Alright, lets get this over with," said Slade, taking the boy by the back of the neck.

"No!" yelled Dick, breaking free and stepping backwards. "No! I won't let you, Slade! Why are you doing this to me? Do you have any idea what I feel like? I...I need to go outside! I need to see Bruce. I have to go back to school. You're killing me!" He began breathing hard and dropped down to his knees.

"Dick!" said Wintergreen, worriedly. "Slade, he's having another panic attack." The two men moved toward Dick but he freaked out and jumped backwards.

"No!" he shrieked. "No, stay away! Bruce! I need Bruce!" Slade grabbed the boy from behind and Dick began fighting and hitting the man anywhere he could. Slade pinned his arms and held him tight.

"Bruce!" screamed Dick, thrashing around for all he was worth. He began breathing hard and laboriously.

"Slade, he's hyperventilating," said Wintergreen. "Sit down and hold him against your chest so he can feel you breathe. Now!" Slade quickly sat and yanked the boy onto his lap, holding him tight. Wintergreen nodded, "Dick, feel him breathe. Come on, son. Feel Slade breathe. In...out. In...out."

Dick whimpered but slowly began to settle down and his chest began rising and falling with Slade's. He started crying and shaking his head.

"I need Bruce!" he sobbed. "Please!"

Slade sighed as the crying boy began mumbling random things in Italian, "Settle down, kid. I can't understand a word you're saying. Speak English." Dick's small body began shaking with sobs and Slade stood, still carrying the boy. "Alright, alright," he grumbled. "Another wasted training day, I guess."

Wintergreen followed the man and boy down to Dick's bedroom and over to the big bed. He felt Dick's forehead as Slade lay him down.

"He's not warm," he said. "He'll be alright. Time and rest. Let's leave him alone." Dick turned onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow and sobbing for all he was worth. Slade and Wintergreen left, turning the light off and shutting the door behind them. The second the click of the knob sounded, Dick sat up and grinned. It worked. They actually thought he was having a panic attack. Now, it was action time.

The boy carefully pulled the kitchen knife from his pocket. He removed the paper towel he'd wrapped around the blade and went to the door. He placed his ear against it and listened. Slade and Wintergreen's voices were distant. Opening the door, Dick realized they had gone back to the kitchen.

Dick turned left and ran the opposite direction, eventually ending up back in the hallway where Slade had caught him the day he had gotten so sick. Dick continued on past the dead-end nook and eventually found what he decided must be the front door. He examined the doorknob and decided it was probably attached to some sort of alarm. If only he knew where on earth he was. He wished the stupid place had some windows.

Dick slid the knife into the door frame and popped the latch out, then swung the door open. Immediately, an alarm began to blare and Dick dropped the knife, hurrying out. He reached the end and looked up and realized they were, in fact, underground. He noticed a button beside him and pressed it. A part of the wall slid back revealing a crude, roughly built elevator. Quickly jumping on, Dick pressed up and soon arrived on ground level.

The boy looked around, trying to get his bearings. The elevator was attached to a sort of rising pole so the entire thing would sink into the ground and be invisible when down. There were no landmarks or buildings. Just grass and trees. At a loss of what to do, Dick tore off in the direction of some trees, deciding they would provide the best protection. Just as he reached them, he heard Slade's voice. He turned quickly and saw the man, looking around angrily. He obviously hadn't seen where Dick had gone, but to the boy's dismay, decided to check the trees. Dick turned and began running as fast as he could, not really caring where he ended up as long as it was away from Slade.

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Slade saw the boy ahead of him and growled, picking up speed. Just a little closer and he could reach him...

"Gotcha!" Slade spun Dick around and grasped the small ear tightly between his fingers. "You're in for a heck of a spanking now, young man," he said. "Did you fake that whole panic attack?"

"Yes, I did!" shouted Dick, raging with fury. "Let me go, you jerk! Let me go! I need Bruce! I won't let you take me back to that stupid place!"

"Stop yelling," said Slade, tugging Dick along by the ear. The boy attempted to fight, but the pain was too much and ran alongside Slade, his hand over top of Slade's, trying to alleviate the sting in his ear.

"Please!" cried Dick, still wrestling to free himself.

Slade said nothing, but pushed Dick onto the elevator and lowered them both back down to the tunnel. Once they reached the passageway, Slade picked Dick up under his right arm and carried the kicking, fighting boy back to the open door. He yanked him inside and slammed the door shut, locking it again.

"From now on," he said, "this door will be locked with this." He reached up and slammed down a bolt above Dick's reach.

"Jerk!" shouted the boy. Slade took a deep breath, trying his best to ignore the urge to beat the living tar from the boy with his fists. He carried him through the vast quarters to Dick's bedroom.

Slade slammed the door shut and went over to the desk chair. Quickly sitting down, he turned Dick across his lap and worked the boy's pants down.

"No!" cried Dick, throwing his hands back. Slade slapped Dick's right hand and the boy quickly withdrew them. Slade smiled.

"Good boy, Dick," he said. "Now, I promised you last time I would use a hairbrush if you didn't shape up, and apparently you didn't believe me." He reached over to the desk and picked up the brush he'd left there as a threat.

Dick's eyes widened and he shook his head, "Oh, no, sir, please! Please, not that!" More often than he cared to remember, Dick had been on the receiving end of a wooden brush from either Bruce or Alfred and it had never been pleasant to say the least.

Slade trapped the boy's legs between his own and wrapped his left arm tightly around Dick's waist. "Okay, kid," he said, "you brought this on yourself." He brought the brush down hard and Dick yelped. His hands flew to the chair legs and gripped them tightly, his knuckles turning white. That only lasted a second though, until Dick remembered his cut hand and yelped in pain, pulling it away.

Slade continued spanking and after about five swats, began talking. "Why am I spanking you, Dick?" he asked.

"Drop dead!" shouted Dick. Slade responded by a particularly hard swat to the boy's upper thighs. "Ouch!" shrieked Dick. "Because I got mad and ran away!" he cried, trying desperately to kick his legs but to no avail.

"Yes," said Slade. He stopped talking and focused on covering every inch of the small backside. He paused long enough to lower Dick's boxers, and then continue, the pain level rising on the boy's bare skin. Dick's bottom began to turn a dark pink and Slade smiled at the progress, deciding to get the boy talking again. Dick had manage to keep in his tears, but he was gasping and yelping at every swat.

"If you plan on making this attitude a regular part of everyday life I'll have to start using my belt," said Slade, upping his force slightly. Dick shrieked and then Slade heard a sob. He smiled. That's what he wanted. The next swat broke the boy completely and Dick stopped fighting. He lay limp over Slade's lap, sobbing uncontrollably as the hairbrush continued to fire his bottom to a glowing red.

"Please!" Dick managed to gasp out, the tears dripping off his chin and onto the carpet. Slade finally stopped and set the hairbrush back on the desk. Dick didn't think he would be able to move, and he yelped when Slade pulled his boxers up over his stinging bottom. He had kicked his pants off during the spanking.

"Dick?" said Slade. The boy ignored him, his small frame shaking with sobs and his good hand still gripping the chair leg. "Dick," said Slade, "its over, son." But Dick made no attempt to move and Slade made no further attempts to sooth.

The door opened slightly and Wintergreen slipped in. He moved over to Slade and put his hand on the man's shoulder, "You didn't overdo it, did you?"

"No," said Slade, "but he worried me. There are traps all over the place outside. He could have been killed. Would have served him right for racing off, I suppose. But I don't want to worry about kidnapping another brat to train." Dick sucked in a sob when he heard that. How was he supposed to know Slade had set traps? Dick hiccuped and brushed at the tears on his cheeks. Slade sounded like he was trying to be tough, but his voice sounded genuinely worried. Did his enemy really care if Dick lived or died?

"Let me up," Dick mumbled, rubbing the final tears from his eyes. Slade slowly stood the boy up and Dick's hands immediately flew back to his bottom, attempting to rub the sting out.

Slade took Dick by the shoulders, but the boy shrugged him off, turning around and facing the bed. Wintergreen grabbed Slade's hand before he could touch the boy and shook his head. "Leave him alone for now," he said. The two men left, arguing under their breath about whether or not to continue training that day, and left Dick standing still, staring at the wall and rubbing his backside. What he would give to be with Bruce right then.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Alfred, look at this!" Bruce pointed to the screen in front of him, his eyes wide with excitement. "Look, I found his signal! Its working!" Bruce had unbeknown to Dick placed a small chip in the boy's arm when he first took him in so that he would always know where Dick was. It had proved extremely useful due to the boy's bad habit of running away, but Bruce hadn't been able to pick it up since Dick had gone missing.

"Where is he, Bruce?" asked Alfred. Bruce could hear the excitement in his butler's voice, and knew he was thinking of only Dick. He hadn't even put 'Master' in front of 'Bruce'.

"Um...he's...just a mile away?" It came out as a question and Bruce spun his head to look at Alfred, confusion etched on his face. "Where on earth is my boy?" Bruce began punching things into the keyboard and Alfred looked on worriedly. Both hearts thumped with fear over what possibly could have happened to Dick, son and grandson, and both men, unfortunately, were fearing the worst.

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**Wow, guys, I'm so excited I got to update! Things are starting to calm down so hopefully I will be more regular. I am so sorry again for the tremendous wait. Thanks for sticking with me!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Oh my gosh, Scarecrow! Your reviews are literally making me cry tears of joy. I had no idea anyone was even really reading this story! I am officially your biggest fan, thank you so much for taking time out of your day to make mine special. You are awesome. I thank you.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything D.C. Why do people even do disclaimers. Like anyone on here actually owns anything they write fanfic about. Cause otherwise it wouldn't be fanfic. It would be canon.**

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Dick grinned as he closed down the barrier surrounding the hideout. Its not like Slade hadn't brought this on himself. He had just taught Dick how to hack a computer, so why not hack into Slade's? Dick gently touched the spot on his right arm where the chip was and smiled. Bruce didn't know he knew about the tracking device, but it was a good thing he did. Batman would come now.

"What did you just do?" roared Slade, slamming a chair against the wall. Dick jumped and spun around, his eyes full of fear as the man approaching him shot daggers from his eyes. "Richard!"

"N...nothing, sir!" gasped Dick, his heart beating hard. Slade grabbed him by the shirt and spun him around. He landed two solid swats on the boy's bottom then spun him back around and shook him.

"I ought to take my belt to you, little brat," he growled. "Why aren't any of my monitors working? What did you do?"

"I...I didn't do anything!" cried Dick. "I swear!" Slade pushed him aside and sat at the desk, quickly typing some things into his computer. He stopped and slowly turned to face Dick, his eyes full of fire.

"I taught you to hack computers, and you turn right around and hack mine!" he roared.

"What'd you expect?" shot back Dick, trying to sound braver than he felt. He unconsciously put his hands back to cover his bottom. "I wasn't going to use it to fight good, yeah right!"

"Yes, but don't you realize what you did?" shouted Slade. "You shut down my security system! Anyone cane get in here now! Enemies and justice! That was not only keeping you captive, it was protecting your life!" Slade spun back around, but stopped. He drew in a sharp breath and glanced at Dick. "What are you keeping from me?" he asked. Dick's eyes widened and he stepped back.

"W...what do you mean, sir? Nothing, I swear!" he jumped a little when he hit the wall and winced, keeping his hands over his bottom.

"You turned off the barrier for a reason," said Slade, standing and advancing towards the boy. "Why? What do you know?"

"I...I was just trying to make it so Batman could get in when he finds me," whispered Dick, trying to sound truthful.

"Yes, yes, I believe that," nodded Slade, "but there's more. What did you do?"

"Sir?" whispered Dick, trying to shrink into the wall. Slade eyed him for a minute, then nodded.

"We'll see how long you can lie while getting your backside blistered," he grabbed the boy by the ear and yanked him from the room and down the hall to Dick's bedroom.

"Slaaaaaade!" cried the boy, wrenching around in an attempt to free himself. The man pulled Dick into the room and over to a corner.

"You can plant yourself there, buddy," Slade growled. He left to go retrieve a wooden spoon from the kitchen.

"Stupid boy," he muttered to himself, stomping down the hall to the kitchen area. "Who does he think he is shutting my security down? Little brat knows something. The Bat has got some way of breaking through without my security. I'll make him talk. Ought to beat him 'til he bleeds...no...Wintergreen will get mad."

When Slade got back, he saw Dick still in the corner, practically shaking with fear. Slade growled and grabbed the boy, dragging him over to a chair. Slade sat, pulling Dick over his lap and landed a sharp, stinging swat.

"You will not lie to me, young man!" said Slade, continuing to rain heavy smacks of the spoon onto the boy's wriggling backside. "I will spank you until you tell me what you did!"

"Ow! No!" cried Dick, twisting and turning as the smacks increased. "Alright, Slade, alright!" he whimpered. "I'm sorry! I'll tell you!"

Slade nodded, "I'm all ears."

"You have to stop first!" cried Dick as the swats continued. Slade growled and held the spoon mid-air.

"Talk, boy," he said. "And if it doesn't come out fast enough I'll keep going."

"I have a chip," said Dick, shakily. "I closed the barriers so Bruce could track me."

Slade groaned, "Oh, you stupid kid. Give it to me now."

"But..." Dick started.

"Now, Dick!" ordered Slade, landing a sharp swat. Dick yelped and Slade stood him up. Dick looked down at his shoes.

"I can't, sir," he said.

"Dick, either you will give me the chip and take the rest of your spanking now," said Slade, sternly, "or I will whip you with my belt until you talk." Dick's eyes widened and he stepped backwards. To Slade's complete surprise, the boy burst into hysterical sobs, dropping to the floor and lying there, his body shaking with cries. "Dick!" said Slade, kneeling beside the boy. "Dick, stop it. I swear, you had better not be faking it again!" But the man could tell Dick was no faking anything. He was truly losing it.

"Bruce!" shrieked Dick, slamming his fists against the floor. Slade grabbed his arms and picked the boy up, holding him so tightly he could barely move.

"Dick, breathe!" he ordered. "Breathe now, kid! I swear you act like a two-year-old ninety percent of the time. How does Wayne deal with you?" Dick still fought, but after a few seconds, he began to settle down and his chest began rising and falling at a normal rate. "Good," nodded Slade, sitting. He held Dick against his chest as the boy's tears fell, thought he was now silent. "I honestly didn't think I would have to teach you to breathe as well as how to fight."

"Bruce," sobbed the boy, grasping Slade's shirt tightly in his small hands.

"Now, tell me what is going on," ordered Slade, calmly but sternly.

"It...it's in me," hiccuped Dick. "I...in my arm."

"Ohhhhh," nodded Slade, understanding now why the boy could not give him the chip. "I see. I'm sorry, Dick. You should have just said that instead of freaking out like a kid."

"Yes, sir," whimpered Dick, slowly gaining control over his tears. "Sorry, sir. I'll take my spanking without fighting anymore."

Slade chuckled slightly, "No, Dick, I'm not going to spank you. I should, but I won't. But you are going to show me exactly what you did so I can put the barriers back up." At that, Dick burst into another round of tears, turning and burying his face in Slade's shirt. The man sighed and stood, one arm around the boy's shoulder. He walked back down to the computer room, Dick leaning against him, and back to the computer Dick had hacked.

"I...I can't," sobbed Dick. "I don't remember. Honest, Slade! I just did what you showed me then searched around a little bit. I can't remember!"

"Alright, alright," nodded Slade. He sat down, Dick standing beside him rubbing his eyes, and tried to figure out what the kid had done.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

The Dark Knight looked at the strange crevice in the ground. It was the exact spot Dick's tracker was leading him to. Batman glanced at the GPS attached to his wrist, and growled when he saw Dick's dot was gone. Kneeling, Batman began feeling the ground, being very careful and alert of any traps. Suddenly, a whirring noise sounded and the ground began to move. Batman stepped back and watched, cautiously, as the ground began to lift. In seconds, an elevator was before him a giant, crude 'S' engraved on the floor in orange and black.

"Deathstroke," Batman hissed. He stepped onto the elevator and pressed the down button, still on the defense for a possible trap. The elevator lowered and opened into a long hallway. Batman started down it, staying close to the wall and stepping lightly. When he reached the door, he stood for a minute, thinking about what to do, then tried the knob. Locked. And probably rigged to an alarm. He would have to smash the door down.

Batman stopped and leaned against the wall behind him. Idiot! What was he doing? He was thinking like an impulsive, wanna-be-hero, twelve-year-old. His love for his son was making him do stupid things. Again.

"Alfred," he whispered, "Deathstroke has him. I've reached a locked door in an underground tunnel and I think its attached to an alarm. Alfred..."

"Batman," Alfred's voice sounded in the earpiece Batman was wearing, "don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Batman smirked, "Great advice, Alfred. Should I break the door down or find another way? I lost the signal."

"I know," said Alfred. "I did, too. Batman, you have to decide. The boy's life may rest on this."

"I realize that," sighed Batman. "I realize that."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

**Whoa, whoa, whoa...who said I could update two days in a row? I am on a role, I guess. Anyway, thanks for reading and please review if you enjoyed the story or have constructive criticism! Thanks, guys! You're all the best!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello, readers! My apologies for the wait! Okay, a quick overview of what is to come. I think I am going to finish this story up in this chapter. Don't worry though! The reason for this is I would like to expand the story and go into deeper detail with it, so I want to rewrite it from the beginning and change some things. I didn't want to leave you forever though, so I will finish it up here and then work on delving deeper into my characters. Okay, thanks, guys!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything DC**

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

Dick sat up in bed and looked around. Everything was dark and silent and his alarm clock's red numbers blazed 1:22 a.m. Dick sighed and pushed the covers back, standing up. He ran to the dresser and pulled out some clothes, quickly changing from his pajamas into black pants and a dark t-shirt. He took sneakers from the closet and pulled them on, then tugged his trusty baseball cap over his curly hair. It was time to explore the rest of this fortress and see if he could escape again.

Dick carefully pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway, taking silent steps just as Bruce had shown him. He carefully walked back towards the conference room and through the hall to the door he had first escaped by. The bolt was still in place and Dick wouldn't be able to reach it without a chair. He had no plan of escape so didn't want to risk getting heard quite yet. First, he wanted to know if there was any other way out.

Turning to go, Dick stopped when a terrific crash sounded and the door smashed to the ground. Dick yelled and jumped backwards, hitting the wall and looking fearfully at the door. He started yelling again as something stepped into the room, but stopped immediately when he saw the familiar black cowl.

"Batman!" he gasped. "Bruce!" he shrieked, running at the man and throwing his arms around his neck. Batman picked the boy up, practically crushing him against his chest. "Alfred, I've got him," he said, his voice shaking.

"Oh, thank heavens," came Alfred's exhausted, relieved voice.

"Dick," whispered Batman, holding the boy close. "I've got to get you out of here, chum."

"Not so fast, Bat."

Batman spun around and he and Dick stared in horror as a figure stepped out of the shadows.

"Put the boy down," ordered the voice.

"Deathstroke," growled Batman.

"Slade?" whispered Dick.

"Batman, what's going on?" came Alfred's voice into Batman's ear.

Slade laughed, his Kevlar armor clinking as he stepped towards them, "I see you have decided to fight me once again, Batman. Apparently last time wasn't enough for you."

"Last time?" whimpered Dick, still clinging tightly to Batman.

"Why did you kidnap my son?" asked Batman, his whole demeanor suddenly changing from a scared, worried Bruce to the dark, sullen Dark Knight. He held Dick behind him.

"Your son?" laughed Slade from behind his mask. "He's your ward, Batman, your ward."

Batman growled, his deep, rumbling voice cutting through the darkness, "He's my son and you have no right to him."

"You cannot beat me, Bat," said Slade, his voice dripping with pride and evil. "Last time I broke almost every bone in your body and never got a scratch."

"What last time?" whispered Dick, clinging so tightly to Batman that his fingers were beginning to hurt.

"I have been waiting for you," said Slade, as he and Batman began to circle to room, staring each other down. "I saw you coming down my tunnel and knew it wouldn't be long. I had truly hoped you would do a better job bringing up children, but your _ward _is truly a handful. How ever do you handle him?"

"The boy is to be left out of this," said Batman, never taking his eyes off of Slade.

Slade laughed, "Oh, no, you don't understand, do you? The boy _is_ this. He is the reason all of this is happening! Did you not see that from the beginning, Bat?"

Dick clung to Batman, staring at Slade. The man was so different in his suit. His whole attitude and presence changed to an arrogant, cocky beast. This was not the man that had been holding Dick closely the night before, comforting him as he cried for Bruce. This was a monster thirsty for blood. Batman's blood. Bruce's blood.

"Slade, if I fight you," growled Batman, "it is without the kid."

"Of course," nodded Slade. "Dick can easily be dealt with. Wintergreen!" The old man stepped from the shadows and nodded to Slade. "Take the boy into the conference room and do not let him get away. I have a bat to defeat."

"Come on, Dick," said Wintergreen, stepping towards the boy.

"Batman!" shrieked Dick, his grip tightening.

"Richard," said Batman, spinning the boy around so he could see his face, "I will not leave you again, but for right now you have to trust me. Go with Wintergreen. I know who he is and he won't hurt you."

"I know him, too," Dick whimpered, "and I'm not afraid of him. But I can't let you. You'll get hurt!"

"Trust me, Richard," said Batman. His eyes full of fire melted as he looked tenderly at his young ward. "I love you, Dick."

"I love you, too, Bruce," Dick whispered, laying his head on Batman's chest. "I'll go, but be careful. I need you."

"Don't try to escape, Dick," said Batman. "Promise me. I'll get you and bring you home when I can."

"Yes, sir, I promise," nodded Dick. "I love you." Wintergreen put his hand kindly on the boy's shoulder and the two went down the hall to the conference room.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

Batman groaned, rolling onto his side and struggling to stand up. Slade laughed as he stood above the man. "You have improved, Bat!" he said. "You lasted an entire twenty minutes this time. Before it was, what? Approximately three? Very good. But now good enough. The boy is mine now. And you are dead." Slade raised his gun, but Batman swept his leg out, catching the man off guard.

Slade hit the ground with a terrific thud and Batman was instantly on top of him. "No ones takes my boy," he growled, before landing a smashing blow the man's ribs. Slade groaned but flipped over, trapping Batman beneath his heavy armor.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

"He'll kill him," moaned Dick, shaking in fear. Wintergreen held the boy tightly.

"Dick, settle down," he ordered, calmly but sternly. "Honestly, you have more panic attacks than anyone I've ever seen."

"Batman!" cried Dick, twisting to free himself, but Wintergreen, even in his old age, had a stronger grip and in the boy's hysteria, could hold the young fighter tightly. Dick was shaking so hard and sweating so much that Wintergreen was afraid he was going to blow a blood vessel.

"Kid, you have got to get a grip," he said, exasperated, "come on." No sooner did he get the words out, when Dick's eyes slowly closed and he slipped into unconsciousness, brought on by his hysterical sobs. The old man sighed and sat down in one of the huge conference chairs, holding the boy on his lap.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Before I kill you," laughed Slade, his gun pointed at Batman's head, "I will tell you what will happen to the boy." Batman took a deep breath, searching his body for any remaining strength to push himself up. He could find none. "First," said Slade, setting his foot on Batman's chest, "I will train him to be the best assassin the world has ever known. He will kill as second nature and make a bloody mess when he does. Second, I will tell him lies about the past...lies that will boil his anger and rage towards Gotham. Innocent people will die, and I will have won. Third, I will make him forget all about you, Mr. Wayne. He never loved you. What ever made you think he dd? It was the money, Wayne. Yes, even at thirteen-years-old a boy knows what money is. You think he stayed with you because he cared? I doubt it. After all, he ran away more times then you can count, did he not?"

Batman let out a gasp as Slade's foot pressed harder on his chest. "Why, Slade?" he moaned.

"Why, Bat?" said Slade, cocking his gun, "Because I can. That boy if rightfully mine anyways. I am the closet family he's got."

"Fourth cousins is hardly close," sputtered Batman, feeling his shoulder crack as Slade pressed harder on his chest.

"Closer than a playboy billionaire racking up points in the social world with a charity case," sneered Slade. "Face it, Wayne, it was all a gag. For looks, was it not?"

"I have the papers at home on my desk," gasped Batman. "Before he went missing, I had them drawn up. I was going to adopt him."

"Oh really?" laughed Slade, "well, how inconvenient all this was for you. But at least you can die knowing he'll be in good hands, right?"

Something snapped inside Batman. Something he had never felt before. It started in his stomach and rushed up through his chest and into his brain, filling his entire body with a warm, tingly feeling. It was similar to what he'd felt when his parents had died and Alfred had held him close, telling him it would be alright and he was still loved. It was a feeling that burned deep into his soul and screamed to be let out to the world. In a final desperate attack, Batman swung his leg around, yelling in pain and he connected with Slade's armor, but the man was not expected the move and flipped over, landing beside Batman.

Once again, Batman scrambled on top of him and in a quick movement, yanked the gun from his hand and jumped back, holding it at arm's length. Slade laughed and sat up. "You can't shoot me, Wayne," he said. "You don't believe in killing. Isn't that true? Batman never kills."

"Batman, you have to! For Richard!" came Alfred's voice over the piece in Batman's ear.

"Oh, Bat," chuckled Slade, slyly, "you can barely stand. Don't you see? This is the end. The boy is mine, you have lost. I have been fighting you for five years now and I have finally won. By quite a lot of points, I might add. And you can die with the knowledge of something he told me the other night. I injected a truth serum into him and asked him all about your operation and what you do. I also asked him a very personal question. One I'm sure you've longer to know the true answer to."

"Shut up, Slade," growled Batman, but he teetered and put his hand against the wall to keep from falling. He was sure he had quite a few broken ribs and was probably bleeding internally.

"I asked him if he really love Bruce Wayne," said Slade, stepping closer. "And do you want to know what he said?"

"Don't come closer!" ordered Batman, almost doubled over now from the pain.

"I'll tell you," said Slade, almost withing arm's length of Batman now. "He said..."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

Dick slowly sat up and rubbed the tears from his face.

"Well, welcome back," smiled Wintergreen. "Are you alright?"

"Where's Bruce?" the boy asked, shakily.

Before Wintergreen could answer, a shot rang out. Dick's eyes widened and he sat on the old man's lap, frozen. Then, before Wintergreen could react, Dick bolted off his lap and raced from the room, screaming for Bruce.

"Bruce, no!" shrieked Dick, sliding into the room Slade and Batman had been in. "Bruce..." Both Slade and Batman were lying side by side the hard floor in a pool of blood, neither moving.

Dick froze, staring at the two men. He took a step backwards, his mind reeling and his heart racing. Everything seemed to start spinning and he could barely breathe. "Bruce!" gasped Dick, dropping to his knees. He stayed still for a minute, trying to focus and regain control of his breathing. Weakly, Dick began to crawl towards the two men. He stopped just above Batman's head, and stared at him. Was he breathing? Dick couldn't tell.

"Richard."

Dick ignored Wintergreen and slowly reached out a shaking hand. He placed it on Batman's shoulder and slowly inched himself closed until he was sitting next to the man, almost in the blood.

"You can't die," whispered Dick, gripping Batman's shoulder. "I need you. If you die, I die."

"Slade!"

Dick ignored Wintergreen as the man knelt down by Deathstroke.

"Slade, Slade, say something!"

Dick slowly looked up at the frantic Wintergreen and the old man's gaze met the boy's. "Dick, Slade...Slade's dead," whispered Wintergreen.

Dick barely understood what the old man had said. He looked back at the Batman, almost in a daze, and then moved onto his knees. With all his strength, he rolled Batman over and slowly peeled off the man's mask. "Bruce," whispered Dick, leaning close to his guardian's face. "Don't die, Bruce. Don't do this to me."

"Dick," whispered Wintergreen, kneeling beside the boy. He picked up Bruce's arm and pulled the leather glove from the man's hand. Pressing his fingers against Bruce's wrist, Wintergreen closed his eyes and was silent for a few seconds. "Dick, he's alive."

The boy stared at the old man, then completely lost it and burst into violent sobs, a mixture of relief and absolute terror over the whole situation.

"Help me!" sobbed the boy, looking at Wintergreen through tear filled eyes. The old man nodded slightly and slowly lifted Bruce's head onto his lap.

"Bruce," said Dick, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. He bent over and whispered into the man's ear,, "Bruce, if you leave me now I swear I'll go back to the manor and break everything you've ever bought over two thousand dollars."

"Oh, really," mumbled the man.

"Bruce!" shrieked Dick, jumping up. "Oh, Dick, you're alive!"

Bruce's eyes slowly opened and he smiled painfully, "Hey, chum."

"Bruce!" cried Dick. "Oh, Bruce!"

Bruce winced slightly, "Keep it down. My head is pounding."

"Oh, sorry," said Dick, immediately dropping his tone. "Bruce, where does it hurt? Can you feel this? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Twelve," said Bruce, sarcastically. "Yes, I'm fine. Help me get up."

Dick and Wintergreen quickly moved to help Bruce, and began pulling him up. Bruce winced as his sore body moved, but finally, he was on his feet. He leaned heavily against both of them and nodded.

"Alright," he said, "the Batmobile is outside. If we can get me to it, Dick and I can got home. It will drive itself back automatically and Alfred can take care of me."

The walk to the elevator was slow and very painful for Bruce, but they managed to make it and get to land. Bruce summoned the Batmobile with a button on his wrist and Wintergreen and Dick slowly eased him into the driver seat.

Dick stood and turned to the old man. "Thank you," he said. "For everything. You were always good to me."

Wintergreen nodded, "Slade was wrong to take you. I'm sorry about everything that has happened; but I'm sure going to miss you, kid."

"What about Slade?" asked Dick.

Bruce spoke up, "He isn't dead and Wintergreen knows it."

The old man looked down and nodded, "I just said that a minute ago to get your mind off of him. He'll be alright and probably come looking for you."

"He won't get very far," growled Bruce. His voice softened and he sighed, "Thank you, Wintergreen, for watching out for him."

"Sure, Wayne," nodded the old man. "I'll see you, kid. Hopefully not by Slade's hand."

Dick nodded, "Thanks. For everything." He went around and slid into the passenger seat and Bruce closed the doors. He told the car to drive home and they sped off.

"Bruce," whimpered Dick, leaning against his surrogate father. Bruce let his hand drop onto the boy's shoulder and set his chin on Dick's head.

"I'm here, buddy," he whispered. "Its okay."

"Bruce, I thought you were dead," said Dick, a tear rolling down his cheek. "I thought you left me."

"I won't ever leave you," smiled Bruce. "I got you back and I'm keeping you this time."

"Bruce, when you get better are you going to thrash me?" asked Dick.

"Thrash you?" asked Bruce. "Why, Dick."

"Cause I ran away," responded the boy. "That's why Slade kidnapped me. You promised me a spanking if I ran away again."

"No, I'm not going to spank you," chuckled Bruce. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? I thought I'd lost you."

"I'm never running away again," promised Dick. He snuggled closer to Bruce, "I realized I love you too much to be gone for very long, Dad."

Bruce was quiet for a minute. He remembered Slade's words "_He said he had never truly loved you. Only played it up so you would keep him on as a ward" _Bruce smirked. The boy in his arms was no ward. Dick was his child. Bruce grinned and gently kissed the top of Dick's head, "I love you, too, son."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

**Okay, there it is! In all its rushed glory... Anyway, I'll work on a longer, enhanced version that will hopefully introduce each character more thoroughly and take the story farther! Thank you so much for sticking with me and reading! It means so, so much! Thanks, all!**

** Review :)**


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